Last
by Jules1
Summary: Post-Progeny, Sheppard worries about his motives and Ronon tells him to knock it off.


Spoilers for _Progeny._

**Last**

Sheppard doesn't move when the door to the balcony slides open. He looks relaxed from a distance but up close it goes away. Back straight, hands flat on the railing. Face tilted up to the sky.

Ronon squints in the same direction. Finds stars and broad patches of cloud. A gust of wind tugs at his clothing and slips damp, cool fingers underneath. It'll probably rain tonight. But he suspects that's not what has Sheppard's attention. "What are you looking at?"

"Not a damn thing. And I'm fine with that."

Preoccupied, like the others. Sheppard doesn't ask for privacy, so Ronon shuffles to the edge and rests his elbows on the railing. He watches waves smash themselves white against the piers. Makes patterns out of the lights in the other towers in a long stretch of quiet. He doesn't expect Sheppard to say anything else. They've had shorter conversations.

"What's up?"

Ronon shrugs. "Nothing."

"Lot of that going around tonight."

No one's in a rush to share specifics. Too personal. Unnerving. Embarrassing. Or all of it.

"Was it bad, what they did to you?" He doesn't know why he asked and for a moment he isn't sure he's going to get an answer.

"It wasn't good. You?"

"I was sore, after. Like it was real. Besides that…" He shrugs. "It was like a dream. I woke up and it faded."

Mostly true. It isn't the worst thing that ever happened to him. Just busy work. Distraction to keep him occupied once they realized he didn't know anything worth digging for. He imagines all they got out of it was the knowledge that he wouldn't stop, ever. And that doesn't bother him in the least.

"Good."

More drawn-out silence. Ronon relaxes into it and watches as Sheppard doesn't. The other man kicks at the floor with a boot and taps out an uneven rhythm with his fingertips.

"Guess that makes me the lucky one."

Sheppard huffs out a breath. The corner of his mouth twitches up into nothing like a smile. "That obvious, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Not sure why it bothers me so much. It's nothing I haven't imagined a hundred times already. Well…" He shrugs, rolls his eyes back toward the door. "Except everyone did what I told them to."

"So we were there?"

"Yep."

"At least you weren't alone."

That hits something. Sheppard shifts his feet and stops tapping. Lays his hands flat, fingertips pressed white against the metal. "I was at the end."

"We left you?"

"You had to."

"But we _went_? Should have been the first clue that it was all in your head."

Soft, nervous burst of laughter. "It's not like this is the first time that crap has been pulled on me. I should have known."

"Probably couldn't have done anything about it if you did."

"I don't know. Could have just sat down and shoved my fingers in my ears and yelled 'lalala' until they quit. Hell, last time I was able to manipulate my surroundings. Ended up with less fiery death and more pizza, beer and Teyla in a short skirt."

Ronon raises an eyebrow. Feels a twinge of guilt for trying so hard to picture it.

"Don't ask." Sheppard finds something interesting in the waves and stares for a long time. Uncomfortable and either not trying to hide it or doing a lousy job.

"It wasn't real, Sheppard."

The easy explanation. It works well enough for Ronon, but—

"Part of it was."

"Your part."

Sheppard nods. Sucks in his bottom lip and chews on it.

"They messed with your head. You shouldn't let it reflect on you."

"Uh-uh. I've offered myself up for this place more than once already and I jumped to do it again. They didn't make that up."

"You take care of your people. It's not a fault."

"It's just—It's not as selfless as it looks." Sheppard glances at him. Works his mouth around nothing for a while before he gets words out. When he does, they creak like they've been rusting in his throat for a long time. "I've screwed up a lot of things. And at some point I got this idea in the back of my head that if I go out that way, people will remember it and let it color everything else. It's not the only reason, but it's there and it bothers the hell out of me."

He breathes deep and lets it out in a short, humorless laugh. Goes back to quietly watching Not a Damn Thing for a few beats before:

"Probably not the kind of thing you want to hear from someone you go out in the field with."

"On Sateda, there were men willing to put thousands of people between themselves and the enemy to ensure their survival." Ronon blows out a breath and lets the breeze carry the rest of that story out over the water, where it won't do any damage. "You would put yourself between thousands and any one of us. Everyone wants to be remembered well, Sheppard. I don't think that'll be a problem for you. Not here, anyway."

Sheppard blinks at him. Swallows loud enough for Ronon to hear.

"Besides, most people don't care why you put yourself in harm's way for them." He shrugs. Slaps Sheppard on the shoulder, hard enough to rock him back on his heels. "If you decide to take a hit for me, I promise not to ask why."

The tired wariness is still there, but a smile threatens. Catches. Spreads and draws a soft chuckle in its wake. Sheppard leans out over the rail and stares straight down. An improvement, Ronon decides, over looking up and _waiting_.

"Ever try to see how far out you can spit from up here?"

Conversation over, then. Ronon shakes his head and cracks a smile. "Spit? No."


End file.
